


holding back your hair (not going anywhere)

by allapplesfall



Series: nuclear family disarmament [2]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Families of Choice, Food Poisoning, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 01, late night chats about trauma and abandonment issues, tracker and adaine are SISTERS this is the hill i will die on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allapplesfall/pseuds/allapplesfall
Summary: Kristen’s sleeping peacefully by her side, star-fished and hogging two-thirds of the bed, so it can’t be her. And Tracker’s lived with Jawbone for long enough that she knows his scent backwards, so it’s not him either.Gently, careful not to disturb Kristen, Tracker sits up and extricates herself from the sheets. She pads to the doorway and pauses, listening, before heading towards the bathroom. She knocks on the door with two knuckles.“Adaine?” she calls quietly.or: Adaine has an upset stomach, and Tracker is a nicer-than-sisters sister.
Relationships: Adaine Abernant & Tracker O'Shaughnessey, Kristen Applebees/Tracker O'Shaughnessey (background)
Series: nuclear family disarmament [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122017
Comments: 22
Kudos: 92





	holding back your hair (not going anywhere)

**Author's Note:**

> set in the early days of adaine living in the jawbone's apartment after freshman year! the fact that adaine and tracker don't really share any moments in canon bums me out, so i fixed it.
> 
> tw: mentioned past drug use (jawbone), vomiting, non-graphic discussions of being kicked out. if vomiting squicks you out, you can skip the section from "she gets no reply" to "do you know what caused this?"
> 
> unrelated, but i have a hc that adaine goes into freshman year shorter than both kristen and tracker, and by the end of sophomore year she's taller than kristen and only a couple inches shorter than tracker. also i use the word dyke because i'm a dyke so ✌️

Immediately after waking up, Tracker looks down to check on Kristen.

When her heightened senses alert her to something off in the apartment, she usually finds her girlfriend with her brow creased in fitful sleep, lying awake with a bitten lip and tears trailing down her cheeks, or desperately trying to sneak into the kitchen for a midnight snack but inevitably tripping and knocking things over. Though occasionally, the cause is Jawbone bringing over a partner, in which case Tracker tries to shove her sheets in her ears and pretend to never have been born.

Before last year, it could also have been Jawbone dealing. Jawbone, hurting so bad and so dead-ended in options that he invited strangers in, doing lines with them on the coffee table. Jawbone, waking with weepy eyes staining the fur of his muzzle, realizing she’s been home the whole time, that she’s seen everything. She hears echoes of his muffled whines, sometimes, in her low moments. She still sniffs for drugs every time she walks into the apartment, part of her convinced that any day will be the day their newfound stability will be upended.

She sucks in a breath through her nose now, just to be safe. A muscle in her chest relaxes when the only pills she smells are Adaine’s anxiety meds.

Another part of her flicks into a more alert state of consciousness, though. Because she does smell something. Something sour, acidic, unpleasant.

Kristen’s sleeping peacefully by her side, star-fished and hogging two-thirds of the bed, so it can’t be her. And Tracker’s lived with Jawbone for long enough that she knows his scent backwards, so it’s not him either.

Gently, careful not to disturb Kristen, Tracker sits up and extricates herself from the sheets. She pads to the doorway and pauses, listening, before heading towards the bathroom. She knocks on the door with two knuckles.

“Adaine?” she calls quietly.

She gets no reply, but she hears a retching sound and water splashing, so she puts two and two together. “I’m coming in, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for a reply. She eases the door open and slips through, closing it behind her. On the floor, kneeling over the toilet, she finds Adaine. Sweat has soaked through the back of the girl’s too-large shirt—one of Jawbone’s old ones, advertising some concert from ten years ago. Her hair lies rumpled, raked over and full of flyaways like she’s been running her fingers through it. The room reeks of sick.

Adaine’s shoulders shudder. A breathy gasp escapes. A tear drops from her cheek to the toilet seat.

“Hey,” Tracker murmurs, walking in and crouching down beside her. She rests a hand on Adaine’s damp back. “Adaine. Hey.”

Adaine lets out a whimper, turning her face to try and hide. Her skin appears pale and waxy in the warm bathroom light.

Tracker rubs a circle on her back. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

“I don’t–” She burps, and then vomits into the toilet. Tracker winces at the way some of her loose hair gets in the way. When she’s done, Adaine slumps forward. Her shoulders hitch with a sob.

“Shh,” Tracker soothes, like she does when Kristen wakes up from a night terror. “Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Adaine moans.

“Nope, we’re not doing that. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I– I don’t feel well.”

Tracker sighs. “I know.”

Adaine’s breathing starts to pick up, coming rapid and shallow. Tracker sees the impending panic and tries to head it off.

“Whoa, hey, Adaine? Adaine. Can you focus on my voice?”

It takes a moment, but Adaine nods. Then she presses her eyes closed, clearly regretting the movement.

“I know this sucks, but I’m gonna need you to breathe with me, okay?”

“Can’t–”

“That’ll make it worse?”

Adaine gives a feeble thumbs up.

Tracker nods. “Got it. How about a question? When did you start feeling like this?”

Adaine shudders again, swallowing hard. Fresh tears spring to her eyes.

“Let it out if you need to. I won’t be upset.” Tracker has sat alongside too many people on benders, here and in the Pit’s grimy bathroom, to let puke faze her.

“It’s _gross_ ….”

“I know, but it’s normal. Good for you, even.”

Adaine gags. Tracker keeps rubbing her back. When she’s done, Tracker stands, grabs one of the hand towels from near the sink, and runs it under some cool water. She brings it back to Adaine and settles it against the back of her neck. Adaine shivers.

“Do you know what caused this? Is it a virus or something you ate?”

Adaine doesn’t open her eyes. Her lips pinch together.

“I’m only asking so I make sure I use the right spell. It’ll help you feel better, I promise.”

Adaine shrinks in on herself. Her fingers clench white at the joints around the toilet bowl.

Tracker’s brow furrows. “Are you not answering because you feel sick, or because you don’t want to tell me?”

She doesn’t open her eyes.

Tracker thinks back. She doesn’t think any of the Bad Kids have been sick recently, but she has no way of knowing for sure. Since they beat a dragon at prom, she’s gotten to know them better as a group, but she’s still _Kristen’s girlfriend_. With the exception of Adaine making conversation at the kitchen table, they don’t exactly talk to her beyond what adjacent friendliness expects.

Could it have been something she ate?

She pauses. “Oh,” she murmurs, because _shit_.

They’d eaten a special treat for dinner tonight, an incredibly rich stew that Jawbone whips up every few months or so. They hadn’t had it since Adaine started staying with them. Tracker’s never considered the issue before—she feels a pang of guilt for that—but she bets a fair amount of Jawbone’s cooking is a far cry from Elven waybread. How much of their food has Adaine’s body been struggling to digest?

“Do you think it was the stew?” she asks.

After a brief hesitation, Adaine gives another miserable thumbs up.

Tracker takes a breath, inhaling only through her mouth. “Okay,” she reassures. She leans over to the bottom drawer of the sink and pulls out a clean blade they keep her for exactly this purpose. “This is gonna hurt, but it’ll be over super quick.”

Adaine opens her red-rimmed eyes to watch.

Tracker cuts into the topside of Adaine’s forearm, doing the same to her own, and presses them together. Feeling the lifeblood that pounds through each of them merging at the connection, she lets the strength of Lesser Restoration swell through her and channel into Adaine’s body. She feels the healing surround the harmful matter, sweeping it into the magic like a riptide out to the ocean. As the spell ends, the wounds close up.

Adaine sits back on her heels, worn out.

“Better?” Tracker asks.

“Much.” She reaches up to close the toilet lid and flushes. In a small voice, still not meeting Tracker’s gaze, she says, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Adaine nods, somewhat unconvincingly.

“Why don’t you jump in the shower? I’m gonna go grab you a spare set of pyjamas.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. It’s late, you should go back to bed.”

Tracker squeezes Adaine’s hand. “Hey. I know we’re still, like, getting to know each other, but I won’t sleep knowing you’re still up not feeling great. I’d feel way better if I got to make sure you were alright. Is that okay?”

Adaine bobs her head, maybe a touch reluctantly, but that’s good enough for Tracker. She stands and washes her hands before tiptoeing back down the hallway. Carefully turning the knob to avoid a click, she creeps back into her room and heads for the dresser. She pulls open the second drawer.

“Tracker?” She turns to see Kristen, muzzy with sleep, push herself up onto her elbow. She squints into the dark room. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, babe, everything’s alright. Adaine just had an upset stomach. I healed her, she’s okay now.”

Kristen frowns, concerned. “Oh, that sucks. Should I get up?”

“No, I’ve got it. I think more people will embarrass her, if that makes sense.” Tracker’s hands find the soft, overlarge t-shirt Kristen has from a corndog festival two years ago. She holds it up. “Can I lend her this shirt?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.”

Tracker pulls out some of her own boxers and a pair of underwear—she figures with boxers, Adaine will get to choose whether she’s comfortable borrowing those—and pushes the drawer closed again. She crosses to Kristen and leans over to drop a kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here soon.”

Kristen blinks heavily. “Tracker?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best. Have I told you that?”

Tracker smiles, fondness warming her chest. “Once or twice.”

“Good.” Kristen lays her head back on the pillow and closes her eyes. “Tell Adaine I love her.”

“I will, I promise.”

As Kristen falls back asleep, Tracker sneaks back down the hallway. She hears water rushing behind the bathroom door, the blurred patter of a shower-in-progress. “Adaine, can I leave the pyjamas on the sink?”

“Oh, uh, yes. Thanks.”

Tracker opens the door, sets the stack of clothes in a pile on the counter, and says, “I’ll be outside when you’re done.”

“You really don’t have to–”

“I know,” Tracker says, because she does. “See you outside.”

She shuts the door behind her and stands in the hallway. It hits her, in a way it hadn’t till then, how late it is. Innately, she knows the waning gibbous moon has tipped past its apex, but she hadn’t thought to grab her crystal from where it charges on her nightstand so she can’t tell the exact time. Tiredness drags at her body. She tips her head back against the wall and stares up at the popcorn ceiling.

Down the hall, hinges squeak. She looks over to see Jawbone, poking his head out from his bedroom door.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, in his gruff, comforting voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I have it under control.”

“You sure? I’m the grown-up here, I can take care of, uh, whatever’s goin’ on. It’s pretty late.”

She loves him for that, because he would do it in a heartbeat. All she would need to say is _yes, please_ , and this would all be out of her hands. She could go curl up in bed and feel her nose tickled by her girlfriend’s sprawling mass of curls, certain Adaine was being taken care of in the gentlest, most considerate way possible.

Instead, she says, “It’s okay, Uncle Jawbone.”

“You sure?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

Because maybe she didn’t have a say in Adaine coming to live with them. Maybe her uncle came home one day, roughed up and slightly charred, with an Elven girl under his wing, and said, _Hey Tracker, Adaine here is gonna be living with us, okay?_ And maybe she would’ve liked a heads up, or a vote, or an acknowledgment that this was gonna change her home life to a pretty drastic degree _before_ the decision was made, not three weeks after. But shit happens. You can’t always warn people before things go tits up, and you definitely can’t leave fifteen-year-old girls with anxiety disorders on the street when their family abandoned them and their house burned down.

So maybe Tracker didn’t get a say in Adaine coming to live with them, but Adaine lives with them now. Tracker doesn’t see that changing. More importantly, Tracker doesn’t _want_ that to change. She cares now. And when Tracker cares about something, she shows it.

(Her parents didn’t kick her out for hiding how she felt, after all.)

“God, you’re such a good kid,” Uncle Jawbone says. “Alright, well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. You let me know the second you need anything. I’ll be there.”

She smiles at him, tired and honest. “I will.”

He smiles back, shaking his head. “Love you to the moon and back, y’know?”

“To the moon and back,” she agrees.

“Goodnight.” He eyes her softly for one more moment before stepping back into his room and closing the door.

She stands guard outside the bathroom, leaned up against the wall. She fiddles with one of the friendship bracelets Kristen made her—this one has a blocky chevron pattern of purple and black, with a small white crescent moon detailed in the center—until the water shuts off. After a long while, long enough that she considers knocking, the door creaks open. Golden light spills into the corridor. Adaine steps out, her light hair damp and smelling of shampoo, the side of her lip marked with a smudge of toothpaste. The short sleeves of the shirt fall down to her elbows. She has the tie of the boxers pulled extra tight in a large bow.

She blinks as she catches sight of Tracker. “You’re still here,” she says.

Tracker cocks her head, smile slanting her lips. “Were you trying to wait me out, Abernant?”

“No,” Adaine denies, and then pauses. “Well, maybe a little.”

“If you really want to be left alone, I can leave you alone.”

“No, it’s– it’s alright. I guess I was just anxious, because I don’t…. I’m not used to this.”

“Not used to being taken care of?”

Adaine bites her lip, eyes finding the wall. Tracker swallows back the instinct that flares within her, the incredibly strong urge to round up a hunting pack and charge into Fallinel, and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

Adaine nods.

The two of them steer their way into Adaine’s bedroom. It’s a simple room, on the smaller side. Last year, it used to be where Jawbone let people sleep things off. Now, the plain walls have been slowly but surely decorated with signs of Adaine’s inhabitation. A Fig and the Sig Figs poster hangs between an array of photos of the Bad Kids and a map of constellations. A string of fairy lights above them casts a warm glow. On the closet door, Adaine’s stuck the present Kristen made her: a bold hand flipping the bird, sharpied carefully onto a watercolor background. (“Did you pervert your Helioic summer camp skills for this?” “Absolutely.” “Ugh, I’m so proud of you.”) Atop the desk sits a lamp that Tracker associates with a crack of light beneath the door at late hours. Strewn around it are a messy array of papers and books and pens.

A twin bed hugs the wall opposite the desk. The two of them clamber onto it.

Sitting crisscross near the pillow, Adaine worries the edge of the blanket. Her hands tremble.

“How are you feeling?” Tracker asks.

“Like I just spent the last half hour praying to your toilet bowl.”

“Not a fan?”

She huffs. “Not particularly.”

“Sorry.”

Her forehead creases. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” Tracker reaches out and rests her foot against Adaine’s leg. Adaine flinches in surprise, then looks down. The tense lines of her shoulders relax slightly. “But it’s not fun.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her eyes warily anticipate the next question.

Tracker delivers. “Does it happen often?”

“Not like that, no.”

Tracker gives her a look.

Adaine makes a face. “Well, it’s never been that bad.”

“But it has happened?”

“Stomach aches are a side effect of anxiety! I get them all the fucking time. They suck, but it’s normal.”

“Sure,” Tracker says. “But earlier, you thought it had to do with dinner.” A pause. “Hey. We’re not gonna be mad at you if it turns out some of Jawbone’s cooking has been making you sick.”

Adaine’s gaze drops to the bed. She presses her lips together, chin dimpling.

“Seriously, Adaine. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to be difficult.” Her voice quavers. “You guys have done so much for me—taken me in, bought me clothes, fed me—and I– I don’t want to be a bother. And it sounds _stupid_ when I say it out loud, but I just….” She brings her knees up to her chest. “I don’t ever want to be more than you bargained for.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.”

“It _feels_ stupid. But also massively scary and real? And very messy and stressful, which are kind of my least favorite things.”

Tracker sighs. Using her hands to lever herself off the mattress, she scoots over so she sits side by side with Adaine. “I think I get it.”

“You do?”

“Scared to be too much, because then they might get rid of you?” Tracker hitches her shoulders. “I’m a werewolf dyke who got kicked out of my parents’ house at fourteen. That’s…that’s kind of a hallmark of the experience.”

“Oh.” Adaine leans into her. “That’s fucked, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Tracker agrees, because _fucked_ pretty much sums up the issues she has left over from that whole deal. “I think for a while, I had kind of the opposite thing as you. I _tried_ to be as much bother as possible. Snuck out to bars. Stayed out late. Gave Uncle Jawbone attitude. I figured the faster he realized I was too much trouble, the faster he’d get rid of me, and it’d save me some heartache to get it over with quickly.”

“He didn’t, though.”

“Nope. So I stopped acting out as much, but I thought for a while—oh, he’s just as fucked up, he needs me. I keep track of the bills, I help him manage the full moon.... When things get better, he’ll realize. But you guys really turned things around for him that night in the Pit, living with him got more stable, and–”

“And you’re still here.”

Tracker nods. “It took me a while to believe it, but Uncle Jawbone’s not like that. He can be cheesy and kind of patronizing, sometimes. He has literally no filter. Did our safe sex talk need to include graphic anecdotes? No. Did it have them?” She raises her eyebrows as if to say, _what do you think_. “But he cares about me, and I trust now that he’ll never send me away. He won’t send you away, either. Well, I guess I can’t predict the future. That’s your thing, Oracle.”

“Oh, haha.” Her sarcasm is offset by the hoarse note of her voice.

Tracker smiles. “I can’t speak for him, but I can speak for myself. If he ever makes you feel like you’re too much effort, or if he ever tries to get rid of you, I will a) fuck his shit up, and b) we’ll be finding a small apartment together, okay?”

Adaine smiles a watery smile in return. “Okay.”

“Good.” Tracker pulls her to her chest for a hug. Adaine tucks into her side. “So, you’re gonna tell him about the food?”

Adaine sniffs. “Yeah.”

Tracker squeezes her gently. “Thank you.”

They stay there for a moment, breathing. The ambient sounds of Strongtower filter in through the walls—a door closing down the hall, footsteps in the apartment above them, an engine thrumming as a car pulls into the lot. Tracker’s acute hearing picks up noises from within the apartment, too. Kristen snuffles quietly in her sleep; Jawbone’s feet rustle the sheets as he runs through a dream. It comforts her, to know where they are.

Adaine reaches up to rub a tear off her cheek. “Tracker?”

Tracker looks down at her.

“You’re really cool.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

Adaine gives her another wobbly smile.

“You’re pretty cool yourself.”

“I’m glad I’m living with you.”

“Me too.”

Adaine makes an almost joking expression. “You’re being really nice to me. Stop being so nice.”

Tracker grins. “Hey. We’re– I don’t want to overstep. But we’re at least foster sisters, at this point. Sticking up for each other comes with the territory.”

Adaine rolls her eyes. “You’re an only child, aren’t you?”

“Guilty.”

“My sister would never have done any of this stuff for me.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, she sounds like she kind of sucks.”

Adaine’s eyes light up. “Thank you! _Thank you_. If I have to hear Fabian talk about her _full lips_ one more time, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

Tracker laughs.

For the next few minutes, they move only to make their positions more comfortable. Adaine’s cool Elven skin presses against hers, a comfortable counterbalance to the small room’s warmth. At one point, the smaller girl makes a noise to herself—half thoughtful, half amused.

Tracker nudges her. “What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m thinking about what you said, how your family sent you away for being too much. My family left me behind for being not enough.”

“Huh. Wow. Yeah, we’re a pair.”

“Truly.”

“That fuck you up too?”

“Oh, definitely. Fear of failure and inadequacy through the roof.”

“Classic.” Tracker rubs a small circle on Adaine’s back, mulling the thought over. “I think I understand part of that. Like, my girlfriend has met multiple _gods_ and turned them down. How long till I can’t live up to her standards and she leaves?”

Adaine angles her head to look up at her. “Oh, come off it, Kristen’s so fucking in love with you.”

“Wasn’t she in love with Helio when you first met her?”

“I don’t– Like, sort of, but I think it’s different. Kristen’s not exactly what I’d call a…mysterious person. She pretty much says everything she’s thinking out loud. When she began to question Helio, we all heard about it every step of the way. And I mean every step. I haven’t heard a single word questioning you. You two are really gross, to be honest.”

Tracker can’t stop a brief smile from crossing her face. She rests her cheek on Adaine’s damp hair. “I hope so. But I think about it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Adaine says. “Well, if she ever mistreats you, I’ll a) fuck her shit up, and b) keep being your nicer-than-sisters sister, even if she and I stay friends.”

Tracker smiles. “You’ve got a deal.”

Eventually, Tracker’s eyelids get heavy. She fights it, but she can’t stop herself from sinking into sleep. Adaine must decide to trance, too, because they wake up to find a gleeful Kristen sitting backwards on Adaine’s deskchair, snapping photos of the two of them cuddling with her crystal. Out loud, Adaine protests—“You came into my bedroom? Have you never heard the word privacy?”—but Kristen confides to Tracker that she later asks for the photos.

The next time Tracker hangs out in Adaine’s room, a new picture has joined the others on the wall.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! if you liked it, comments are love <33
> 
> come yell at me abt fh on tumblr @appleciders!


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